


My Name Was Orion

by hito_ritabi



Series: NTN [3]
Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 23:16:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1959840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hito_ritabi/pseuds/hito_ritabi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaac recalls what his life was like when he was alive, some 500 yra. Why did he commit suicide, and was it worth the pain of death?</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Name Was Orion

My name is Isaac, but I was once called Orion, less useful than mud.

 

I recall a time, hundreds of years ago, when the world was _very_ different. I lived in a small village, surrounded by trees. We were able to get our food from berries, fruit, and fish and snakes from the nearby river. It wasn't an extravagant life by any means- we had a central bonfire to keep us warm, and smaller ones to cook our food on. Our houses were made of logs tied together with rope woven from grass and stems. We were able to make clay and jewelry that we wore all over our body...

 

In my village, we had a unique culture. Since most were brunette, if anyone was born into the village with blond hair, they are to heralded as 'special'. When they reach their fifth spring, if they're still blond, they are given a special bead somewhere woven into their hair to symbolize their special rank. In their ninth spring they are tested to prove their rank of specialness by being tossed into the river. If a fish goes for the child, they are seen as the next shaman and taken into special care by the elders. However, if a snake or bird approaches the child, they are seen as a lost cause for intelligence and did not receive the blessings needed to be taught the secrets.

 

In my ninth spring, when I was tested, a hawk swooped down, mistaking me for a fish. I was plucked out of the water and carried a distance before the bird dropped me. It was a very bad omen. When I was inspected by the shaman and elders, I was told my soul was mismatched for my life here, or 'dirty'.

 

Promptly the shamans ordered my back be marked with painful ink of a skull and a flower to symbolize how mismatched my soul was to the village.

 

Shortly thereafter, it was decided that my soul was not terrible enough to exile or kill me, but to use me as a tool for the people. I was put into a small house with a low fence around it. I could not leave the fence and food would be brought to me. Only people could come to me... people who wanted something from me. No one came to speak to me aside from the shaman, who would arrive at the first of the season change to cleanse my soul with boiling water. Everyone else came and took out their frustrations.

 

If they had a poor time at hunting that day, I was beat. If the tree stopped producing fruit, I was cut. If the wild boar got into our store house, I was burned with a torch. Steadily the punishments became more and more like torture. I had done nothing wrong but have been saved by a river by a hawk, and for it, I was told my soul was less usable than mud. Mud, when dried can be used as bonding agent, and when wet, it cures burns. But I am not mud. I am dirty and unusable.

 

In my eleventh spring, when I thought I had taken all I could and began to despair, a man in his twentieth spring came and raped me. It wasn't as violent as I've heard rapes can be today, but still... My first time experiencing sex was painful.

 

He held my hair by my braids that came from my temples violently so my head would not loll off to the side. He used his other hand to work my anus until it was accepting his saliva and was allowing movement. With honey smeared over his cock, he thrust into me without warning. I had no time to gasp or yell, because he jerked his hips and thrust again. When reality set in with the pain, I realized I was feeling something in my stomach being beaten against by his hard dick.

 

I cried the whole time.

 

After in the morning, the shaman brought water so that I may clean my body. I thought it was for myself, but it truly was so that I may return to the same cleanliness as I had been before the rape. Only because that night another man came to rape me.

 

It was a twisted schedule. For two nights men would come, and for two women would come, and on the fifth, a man and woman would come. The sixth and seventh days were for me to rest, but sometimes someone would come and play with me- fondle my cock, rub my nipples, suck my dick off until I couldn't ejaculate anymore.

 

When my fourteenth spring rolled around, I had already attempted to slit my wrists twice with sharp rocks or spearheads. My eighteenth spring led to the worst of the years- ushering in a whole new level of pain- gang rapes- multiple men or women or a mix coming in, but still I would have two days to rest. Though, by this year, it was hardly ever one day to rest a week. It turned out more often than not, one day for every twenty having sex.

 

I can't lie and say it wasn't all terrible. Very few, but present, people did treat me with a reasonable level of kindness that I did not deserve. They would ease my body, tease me, excite me... Perhaps it was only for their own enjoyment in the end, but it left me missing those people when they didn't come in.

 

In my twentieth spring however, the torture that had been enacted upon me in my childhood returned due to a bad fall and winter. With the lack of rain that year and the heat that came, more torture happened and steadily it led into tortures of the sexual nature. No one was kind to me.

 

The shaman had to treat me weekly, sometimes daily, for wounds I'd inflict upon myself.

 

It was getting out of hand when I fell into my twenty-second spring. I used an arrowhead to rip my stomach open, opening that if my fat and intestines spilled out the shaman might not be able to save me. Some sick prayer was answered, and I lived. The torture lessened, and the rapes became infrequent.

 

Just when I thought my life would be easing into a state of peace as I was growing too old to take their abuse, I was gang raped just after the start of the twenty-third spring. Within a few days I had done everything to end it all.

 

Using spearheads to gash at my stomach, and twine to stop the blood at my thighs, I began to feel death coming upon me. It wasn't fast enough. I summoned the will, all of my anger and rage... All of my greed and selfishness for wanting this to stop. I slit my throat with a spearhead and laid down in my own blood. It felt warm and comforting.

 

I wish I remember looking at whoever found me as I was dying. Were they distraught at my appearance and trying to save me, or did they give up? Or did they even care? In the end, it doesn't matter. I died and was freed from their grasp.

 

In death, I found my way to a world of darkness and navy, with small flames of white light. There was a young man, the only man among flames, standing at the edge of some tall structure. I approached him and was welcomed.

 

This man told me his name was Neo Phyte and that although I was dead, I did not have to pass on to remember all of the pain I had lived with. Without hesitation I followed this man into the building where he put me on a soft surface- a bed- and he touched my forehead. I forget what he said, but he removed all of my memories. I was left with only the facts of my past that I have relayed to you now.

**Author's Note:**

> Hint at the reason for why Isaac works comfortably under Neo Phyte.  
> Back-story and info for "Nearly There Nicely".


End file.
